A Child with No Soul
by Phantom Myst
Summary: A child sex string is uncovered during a rape investigation,& Elliot is given a young girl to care for until she can be placed. How will he handle a girl that considers sex with grown men to be a primary means of survival? This is rated M! Please REVIEW!
1. Chapter 1

He woke, his breath harsh with the gripping fear that his nightmare had caused. His cell phone continued to ring irritatingly, but he ignored to run a gentle, loving hand over Kathy's exposed shoulder, taking comfort that she was still there. Too often he had dreams about Kathy or Kathleen or either of his other children be kidnaped, raped, murdered, or otherwise threatened. The cell phone beside him silenced, but two seconds later the home phone beside him shrilled out, causing him to jump. He moaned, glaring at the phone. He had not had a thorough night's sleep in the past week. Kathy had stopped preparing the coffee for him- he had left in a rush every night that week. The phone seemed to get louder with every ring. It was now on it's third. Kathy groaned and flapped a hand at Elliot.

"Just answer it," she mumbled in a slurred, sleepy way. Elliot slapped his hand down on the phone and picked it up with a force.

"Stabler," he growled into the receiver.

"Elliot, it's Olivia," his partner greeted in a hurried voice. "The Browns case has a heads up. We have to get to Maria Stonn's house now."

"Stonn," Elliot fumbled with this tired mind to figure out who she was talking about. "Maria...Sarah's mother?"

"Someone called in and said Craig Browns had a child and a woman with him, but Maria is still in the lock up."

"What?" Elliot snapped, sitting up in the bed. "I thought we released Maria last night. She was supposed to have Sarah back by the end of the night." He threw the covers off now, his adrenaline pumping. His mind raced. Sarah was supposed to go back to Maria that night after false accusation of sexual abuse had been dropped. Craig Browns had been looked at, but his alibi had been vouched for and they had lost him. Elliot had hated the man on sight, but he and Olivia had been stuck against the wall, unable to prove anything of their gut feelings. "How the hell did Craig get hold of Sara?" he spat, struggling to jerk his pants on with the phone between his head and shoulder.

" He used a false ID. Claimed to be the uncle," Olivia answered sharply. She was somewhat out of breath, and her voice was inconsistent. He figured she was shoving herself into clothes as well.

"And now he's got both of them. You've got to be kidding me!" Elliot cursed, throwing aside his undershirt and worked himself into his dress shirt. "I'll kill Briscoe. What did he think he was doing not matching Ids?"

"He did- somehow Browns got a fake card...shit!" Olivia cursed and he heard something heavy fall in the background. Tossing his shoes on, he twisted around, attempting to fin his black shoes in the dark, tangling himself in the phone wire. "And now he has her."

"Fuck," Elliot hissed, shoving his last foot into the shoe. "I'll be there."

"Alright, go! Go!"

The door was slammed down as the team broke the lock and three uniforms accompanied Elliot and Olivia as they rushed into the apartment, guns drawn. Th apartment was pitch dark but for the moonlight that leaked through the cracked blinds.

"Search every room, every closet!" Olivia demanded. The uniforms split, heading for the living areas. Elliot and Olivia trotted towards the bedrooms. They split, Elliot going or the child's room. He swung the door open with force, aiming his gun for the kill. There was nothing hinting that Craig Browns had any weapon, but h wanted dearly a chance to at least maim the man for his unjustified crimes- no matter how unethical it was of him. He was disappointed to find nothing in the room, even after searching under the bed, despite the fact that it was much to small to fit-

"Get your hands on your head, now!"

He heard his partner's distinctive, strong voice and rushed into the master bedroom, hissing and screeching to a halt at the scene. His gun dropped in surprise. There were three people in the bedroom, as expected, two of which belonged. A third did not.

Craig Browns was sitting upon the bed, the seven year old Sarah beside him, crying softly. But the third party was a girl Elliot had never seen before, no older than twelve, kneeled low beside Brown's hips, her hair tangled about his fingers.

"Let her go, now," Elliot growled viciously, stepping forward and re-aiming his gun as Olivia stepped forward and swept Sarah up in her arms, hugging her to her breast lovingly. Slowly, Browns released the unknown girl's hair and raised his hands. "Come on, sweetheart," Elliot motioned to the girl to step away from the man. With an almost bored look, the child stood and walked away from the bed without blinking, stopping in the doorway behind him. Elliot moved forward and hand Browns twisted into the cuffs in a smooth motion.

"I'd merandize you, but we just did that a few days ago, didn't we, you bastard?"

"You don't have anything on me," Browns spat, glaring back at Elliot.

"Really?" Olivia smirked, still cradling the sobbing child to her chest. "We've got molestation, inappropriate sexual acts with a child, endangering a child, neglect...do you want me to go on?"

The Uniforms had swarmed in now, and Elliot handed him off to their lead. The man was led out cursing and spitting, but Elliot ignored him. He sunk down before the strange girl, searching her features, but he did not recognize her.

"What's your name, honey?" he asked gently. His eyes searched the girl's willing her to know he wasn't going to hurt her. He flinched inside as the child stared back without emotion, neither fearing nor trusting him. He had seen terrified children, children broken and shattered, but never had he ever seen one so completely dead inside. Now he had met a child without a soul.

"Christine," she answered simply, staring back into his eyes with cold orbs.

"Christine. That's pretty," he said wit a gentle smile. "What's your last name?" The girl shook her head. "Come on sweet heart. Tell me your last name." Again the girl shook her head.

"I don't have one." Eliot laughed ever so lightly.

"Come on, sure you do. What's your mother's or father's last name?"

"I don't have them. I don't know. Charlie take care of me?"

"Ok, who is Charlie?"

"He's my patron."

"Your patron?" Elliot asked, frowning. His gut coiled. He knew where this was going. She nodded. "Meaning he pays for your food and gives you to...guys like him?" He jerked his head in in the direction Browns had left. She nodded again. He allowed his head to sink, and he took deep breath. "Ok, honey. I'm going to take you with us. We'll take care of you, and you don't have to let men touch you for food." The girl said nothing, staring blankly, uncaring. "Ok?"

The girl shrugged.


	2. Chapter 2

"Hi, Christine, I'm John Munch."

Elliot watched Munch enter the room that held the young girl, who stared blindly ahead. The one-way glass between Elliot and the girl did not distort the cold, dead look in her eyes as hey bored directly into him, unknowingly. His jaw muscle twitched, his heart dropping. This girl was so numb, she didn't even care about the fresh, clean clothes folded before her on the table. There was a bathroom at the other end of the room, and she had been told to change if she wanted, but the child had opted not to, despite her obvious want for presentable clothes. Or perhaps his want. He had hoped she would change into the simple jeans and tee outfit, anything to replace the disturbing outfit of a thin strap of a tube top and shorts that revealed the majordy of her adolescent buttocks that she had been wearing since they had found her performing oral sex upon Browns. His stomach curled hen he remembered the sight. It was bad enough to hear about it, but to walk in upon such a horrendous sight...

"Christine...why hadn't you changed?" John asked quietly, curling his tall form and sitting in the chair across the table from Christine. His movement were somewhat tense, uncertain. Again, the girl shrugged, nothing registering upon her face.

"Covers too much," she answered simply. Munch frowned.

"What do you mean?"

Elliot scoffed, wondering why Munch was dancing around the obvious. Everyone watching from behind that glass knew what the girl meant. Even so, Elliot said nothing.

"No one wants a modest kiddie."

The response was equally as cold as everything else she had said so far, which was very little. The burning in his twisting stomach caused Elliot to grind his teeth. His hands within his coat pockets gripped into fists.

"Who wouldn't want you? You're a beautiful young girl. Why would you be unwanted?"

Elliot opened his mouth in protestation at John's words, but shut it, knowing it would do him no good to burst out, but within, he was fuming. He threw a desperate look at his Captain, who had not let Elliot's want to protest Munch's handling of the girl pass without notice.

"Easy, Elliot," Cragen said quietly. "Let him dance. This kid needs someone to open her up slowly."

"Not like that," Elliot answered behind clenched teeth. He had never seen John handle a child this way. He had never dealt with a child like this, with this history. He was used to young, easily entertained children. Elliot wished painfully that Olivia had not been called out on one of her personal cases. She had always been handed the kid, when she was available, and she had always gotten the most out of them. But this time, she wasn't here, and John, who was trying his best, was doing everything that Elliot's instincts screamed in object to. He was only reinforcing this girl's belief that she was nothing but meat to be devoured.

"Anyone that pays well looks for skin," Christine said, unmoving, uncaring. "No skin, no food." Now she turned her head towards Olivia. His partner shook her head.

"No one here is looking to see your skin, Christine," John said, attempting to keep his distance, trying not to crowd the girl, where he normally leaned in to emphasize his gentle, mischievous eyes. "No one is going to touch you here."

Elliot felt his heart stop, and he jerked his gaze to Cragen, pleading him to stop Munch. His Captain did not return his look, his eyes saddening as the girl showed a slight flicker of emotion for the first time since she had been brought to the precinct: hurt. Not only did the girl feel like nothing but an object to be thrown about, but now she was a worthless object that no one thought good enough to touch.

"Go," Cragen ordered simply, tipping his head towards the room that entrapped Munch and Christine. Eliot looked over with a sharp expression, his brow knit close in uncertainty.

"Me? Does she really need another male to intimidate her?" he asked, feeling disgust for his sex.

"This kid doesn't respond to just men," Cragen answered. "She doesn't respond to anything. She's not afraid. Now get in there and talk to her."

Elliot nodded, setting his jaw, calling up his reserve of emotional strength, and walked around the corner, knocking softly on the door before entering. John looked up, and Elliot nodded out the door. His fellow detective looked at him greatly and stood, exiting quietly, refusing to look at the girl. Elliot closed the door behind him and looked at the girl, who was taking him in with Ebony black eyes. He felt her sizing him up, making a decision she was not about to disclose to him. He stood silently, waiting for her inspection to end. Her time to her own thought was important. It was painfully obvious that this girl's world was not his, or Cragen's, or Munches, but an entirely separate and frightening world. He stopped breathing when he saw her gaze run back down his body the second time, pausing at his groin, studying it. Her eyes then flicked his hands, which hung at his waist, back down to his crotch. A muscle in his jaw twitched uncomfortably, but still he said nothing. Finally, the girl's coal black gaze returned to his own light blue yes.

"Seven inches, minimum."

The girl's opening statement shocked him into a silence at first, his mouth opening and closing, but nothing came out. It was a disturbing thing to say, but what almost more frightening was that, save a half inch or so, she was right on the money. He did a double take at that thought. Of course she was. This was no girl, in all meanings of the word. She was an experienced prostitute that knew how to play her cards for just that- money.

"You know the game well," he stated simply, deciding upon a game plan. It was a card he hated to play, and one that always caused him extreme emotional strife afterwards, but it never failed him. Play into the perp's sick world. Only this time, he was playing into the victim's sick world. Still, he would have to watch his step- he could cross a boundary that could set off a time bomb in the girl's head. "What else can you figure out?" The girl did not hesitate in her smooth answer.

"You're a strong bedder. You don't tease, and you aren't gentle. But you don't leave marks either." Elliot forced himself to swallow the bile that wanted to force it's way up his throat. She had him don to a T, but wit one slight misinterpitation. He was never a forceful or painful lover. But in Christine's world, that option simply mean that a bruise was not to be left. He felt he double sets of eyes behind the glass bore into him.

"Did you make the same decision about Munch?" he glanced every so quickly at the glass, knowing that Munch was watching, and wanting him to know that the question had been for John's embarrassment. The girl nodded silently, knowingly.

"Quiet, gentle. Clumsy sometimes, but likeable. Six inches at the least."

Elliot had noticed a pattern here- she had been trained to give the man a description that made him sound good- whether the description was nice or not. Even if a man she was describing was small in manhood, stating that they were a certain size, at least, or minimum, made them feel impressive. She had been well trained, and it made him sick.

"What about Charlie?" he asked simply, falling into the chair John had occupied with a careless flop. Comfort was the word here. The girl simply did not care, and that was to their advantage. Se would say anything without caring about the outcome- but if she became uncomfortable, they might loose that privilege.

"Charlie." He watched the girl go into herself, picturing the man she had named as her pimp or, in her words, her "patron". "Powerful, demanding. Big. Eight inches." She finally put an expression on her face, but Elliot wished she hadn't. "He hurts so good," she said with a heart-freezing sneer.

"And where is Charlie?" Simple, emotionless questions.

"Everywhere." Elliot closed his eyes for a split second. They were moving onto metaphor.

"Where is he mostly?" he asked, straightening his tie.

"Between Fifth and Virtue st," she answered, meeting his marker with equal bluntness. "But not anymore. He's long gone. I was supposed to be back at four thirty. If one of us is late, he moves, no exceptions."

"Where does he move to?" Elliot asked, but he already knew it was a pointless endeavor

"Can't tell you. If he wants us back badly enough, he finds us."

"Will he come after you?"

Christine shook her head ever so slightly, scoffing a laugh.

"Not with cops using my time. He won't touch anything you guys use," she answered, standing. She moved with a confident stride towards Elliot, and he expected some sort of wandering or eye searching, but he was not ready for the girl to straddle him. He reached out to push her away, but hesitated to touch her bare skin, which he could not escape. The only part of her torso that was covered were her young, small breasts.

"We aren't going to use you," Elliot answered through ground teeth and down cast eyes. "No one is going to hurt you here." The girl laughed at him now, but the laugh was empty. Elliot felt his stomach threaten upheaval as Christine slid her child's hands along his chest to snake around his neck. He slowly raised his arms, deciding that pushing er away by her shoulders was his best bet to be released from her.

"Come on. Charlie won't want me anymore," she said, refusing to budge as he gently tried to pry her away. "I'm all yours, free. I'm an easy keeper. I don't require much. Just water and food now and then. All for your pleasure and continence. Ready when you want..." Her hand was sliding determined south upon Elliot's stomach, and he could not handle ti any longer. Placing his hands upon her bare sides, hating the feel of her smooth skin beneath his callused fingers, he lifted her up and set her on her feet beside him as he stood.

The overly sure, seductive voice had don him in, and he attempted to gain back his breath, which ad stuck in his throat. The girl was talking in the voice and vocabulary that would have put professional whores to shame in the game.

"Christine, listen to me, honey," said gently, reverted back to his more comfortable father role, placing his hands firmly upon her shoulders. "What Charlie did to you was wrong. What all those men did to you was wrong. Everything that has been done to you was wrong. But I'm going to make sure none of that ever happens to you again, ok?" he gazed steadily into her eyes, which looked back soullessly, their black depths endless.

"What about the women? Was what they did wrong, too?"

Elliot closed his eyes, and hung his head.


End file.
